


Bullet Proof

by Jinkies_Lydia



Series: Riskiest business of Rick's [8]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8863981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinkies_Lydia/pseuds/Jinkies_Lydia
Summary: Installment for 2x09





	

You fell asleep in the backyard swing, after a long day taking care of your grandmother’s yard. An old dog eared copy of some horror novel in your hands while your body curled into itself on the cushions. Time got away from you and the sun had set early as it did in the winter season, when you’re startled from slumber-well more like a nightmare. Thrashing awake, your elbow rams into the body that dare wake you- “SHIT!”.

It takes a few moments for the voice to register, groggily your hand fixes eschewed glasses getting a better look at Rick sprawled out in the fresh cut grass. “That’s why you don’t sneak up on people, Rick!” you growl having a hard time trying to feel sympathy for his sneaking. You wonder why ever after all these months, all these trysts, you still didn’t know his touch from memory or the sound of his footsteps. It made you nervous. Why couldn’t you recognize him? Was he intentionally changing his presence to throw you for a loop? He was rather the paranoid sort of old man…..but how threatening were you really? 

Then you spot the bloody stains on his shirt and lab coat. The stain is brown-old blood but a fresh ring of red is spreading around the old stains’ edges. “Fuck Rick-“ you stammer, while tumbling off the swing into the lawn next to the groaning old man. 

“What did you do?” you ask touching the hole in his shirt wide eyed, pressing against the small bit of flesh exposed, Rick grunts-“knock it-it off! Fuck.”he sounded short of breath as you lift his shirt hem up to his ribcage. A massive bruise discolors his skin on the upper right side of his torso. “I didn’t do anything, some stupid furry tail Morty was sniffing after shot me. During a fucking purge god damn holiday in outer fucking space.”

You finger the slight indentation in the middle of his bruise, making the old man hiss, “Jesus Rick, it’s not like you’re some um….youngster anymore. How did you even like...fix a bullet wound?” you ask fascinated. Rick grabs your wrist, and his index fingers draws slow circles over the top of your hand, drawing until the pressure of his finger tip is against your own fingers knuckles, one-two-three. He adds weight behind the tip of your fingers dug into the small injury adding pressure-making it dig into the tiny dimpled hole. At that moment you realize it’s not just pain that’s he’s hissing for, it’s masochistic pleasure he’s taking in your prodding. 

Your gaze draws down from the bruise to his exposed hip and then further. He’s rocking a semi chub, you can tell. “Is there anything you aren’t into you gross old fucker,” you tease him. You didn’t want to hurt Rick too much, but a bit of indulgence wasn’t going to kill him. Your hand curls up into a fist against his flesh, before you dig all your knuckles into the bruised skin. Rick’s squirming worse than a snail that’s been sprinkled with salt on the garden’s ground. He’s making your own breath hitch, and a smirk tear across your cheeks briefly. Then you’re sinking your teeth into the side of Rick’s neck for a bite. 

His hands are tugging at your hips to drag you onto his lap. “Hold up space cowboy, I ain’t fucking you in this yard,” You pull your hips away, and he’s powerless to stop you. For once Rick actually seems his age…..he’s wore out, a bit weak. It makes your heart squeeze painfully. 

“I ain’t putting on a show for my grandparents, that’s the last thing they need.” You let up on his bruise, trailing up to his nipple to give it a twist. Rick’s eyes are dazed, and you watch them trail down your throat to the gape of your shirt. It was an over sized plaid shirt on your body, so oversized as you loomed over Rick the 3 undone top buttons gave him an eyeful of your left breast swaying down his way and a bit of the side of your right tit. You lacked a bra that evening. All the more to Rick’s liking. “Then where are you gonna keep punishing me, they might be old but, eh, I don’t think there’s any hiding how you’re making me feel.” Rick gives you a shit eating grin as he drags a hand down his body till he’s cupping the sightable bulge of his cock through his slacks.

You give Rick’s nipple a hard thump with your thumb and middle finger, “Your house. Right now, old man.” Pulling yourself up from the ground, Rick is left to follow you with his eyes as you put on a small show exiting the yard. You’re moving backwards, fingering the shirt buttons. Peeling one side of the shirt back flashing your breasts at Rick, shrugging a shoulder free from the shirt. Rick looks hungry as a wolf, a bit of drool and dribble running from the corner of his mouth as he’s followed you to the front door of the Smith’s home. There are no cars at the moment, and who knew where everyone was. 

He is breathing against your neck, pressed flush against your body. His boner is as hard as the wood beneath your back while Rick’s hand fiddles with the door lock. You press your nose into the wild mane of his hair breathing in his scent. It’s acidic with a hint of ethanol. When the door finally opens you drag Rick in by the collar of his labcoat. You’re lead to the living room, which is down the hallway and off to the right after the staircase. It feels like you can’t hardly get a few steps in, your mouth being smothered under Rick’s the whole time too, without his hands pawing at getting you stripped down to being bare assed. 

“Rick…” You call his name softly, as your hands busy with his clothes. Your gaze is consumed with exposing as much of his flesh as possible. The dusting of ice grey hair along his stomach, and the darkening huge bruise is what you see first. With his labcoat and shirt finally off Rick won’t let you though take the rest of his clothing off. “No fair, man come on-” you pled frustrated reaching for his slacks only to have your hand batted away. Annoyed you slump down onto the coffee table-leaning back on your elbows glaring up at Rick. You hardly notice your legs are spread open wide and beckoning. 

Rick has though, as one of his hands cup himself through his slacks. “Turn over,” Rick orders as he unzips his slacks. You cross your legs, “You can ask nicer than that,” you insist not budging an inch. Slacks around thin ankles he’s practically falling into you as he bends down eye level, “Fine. Please turn over,” Rick mumbles in your ear and seemed to struggle a moment with whatever was to come next. “Let me make ya feel good,” he growls then gives you a soft kiss. It’s brief and chaste. Your crossed legs slip apart since he’s caught you off guard and then there’s hands on your hips and your body has rolled over the coffee table.

Hands reach for the edge of the table to stable yourself, elbows digging into the wood. Taking a deep breath you shut your eyes letting Rick take the lead. The grazing of fingertips run the length of your spine to your ass, giving it a good squeeze before running over cheeks down to your inner thighs and spreading them apart. Rick’s boney chest and soft old man’s pudgy middle replace his hands against your back, with a slimy tongue roaming along the back of your ear. One hand’s moved around to the front of your body to cup you by the groin and lift your hips forcefully up and rock his cock along the crack of your ass. There’s no need for more foreplay, Rick finds out as he slips between your lips finding plenty of lubricant 

A swift push and he’s in. You pull one of your favorite tricks for this position. With thighs between Rick’s own you turn your knees inward and squeeze them together as tight as you can. It makes your cavern extra tight and causes your breath to hitch. A string of curses are leaving Rick as he rides you nice and slow for once, his wound slowing his pace down. His hand has never left your front, as he’s fucking you. And his fingers make sure you damn well notice they haven’t left your body as he worships your little engorged button. 

When you come, it’s like your brain short circuited and everything goes black for a moment. Rick finishes between your shaky thighs a minute or two later while you gasp for breath. The two of you stay locked together till he’s gone soft, and it’s time for you to return back to your grandparents. On your way out the door you give his bruise one last pat, “Don’t come back to me torn up like this again old man. Got it?” you threaten Rick, and leave him with a peck on the cheek. 

It was a rare occasion for Jerry and Beth to be out of the house this long, but Rick was grateful for the chance to catch his breath after sullying the living like they had that afternoon. Seemed his daughter was set again on trying to fix her crumbling marriage to that idiot. But it wasn’t a long enough break for Rick as his grandkids came stomping in the front door, bickering about Morty being creepy towards Summer’s friends.

“It’s a free country Summer, I wasn’t even looking at Grace,” Morty argued back, but Summer cut him off, “OH so you were looking at Chris? Yeah right Morty, if you’re going to be gross at least be stealthy about it.” Summer flicked her head to one side making her ponytail snap, and that’s when a very ripe  
smell hit her nose.

“Oh god this room smells as bad as your sock drawer,” She gagged, whipping her head towards Morty furious, “GROSS, keep it to your room Morty!” “Jeez Summer, I didn’t do anything don’t be such a bitch!” Morty’s hands balled into fists at his side as the siblings had a stare down with one another, their noses wrinkling at the rank smell.

Rick was laid out across the couch, dressed of course, and chugging from his flask. Summer and Morty turned glanced at Rick then each other, “Wait if you didn’t do that in here…” Summer’s voice became faint, her brow wrinkling in thought, before screeching, “Ew grandpa WHERE?!”  
Rick ignored her smiling behind his flask, continuing to drink from it while Morty’s pea sized brain caught up to the realization. “Wait…Rick was she over?”

Rick just gave Morty a wink, while Summer flushed redder, “Oh jeez Rick, Where?” Morty begged feeling his stomach turn. The longer Rick refused to answer that question the more the two of them fidgeted. “Seriously old man, where did you drag your gross saggy ball sack?” Summer demanded pinching her nose.

“Seems you two already know where,” Rick finally answers their question. His eyes never leaving theirs. The kids look ready to throw up eyeing the couch, and Rick shook his head, “Guess again.” Summer was quicker to catch his drift as her eyes moved to the coffee table in front of the couch. A few greasy smudges could be made out on the table and a few questionable stains on the wood. “And you couldn’t clean the table Grandpa?” Summer gagged.

“Oh jeez, that’s where I put my hot pockets….” Morty pouted as his shoulders slumped forward, “Let me tell you about a,” Rick belched in the middle of his statement, “real hot pocket, Morty,” he said with a shit eating grin.


End file.
